


Second

by LilyChenAppreciationSociety



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, Aged Up, M/M, Malcolm Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:59:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyChenAppreciationSociety/pseuds/LilyChenAppreciationSociety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Malcolm Fade had reason to hesitate on the whole murder front, things shake out a little differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiththepaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiththepaladin/gifts).



> Originally posted at (http://marcythewerewolf.tumblr.com/post/145073522964/for-malcolm-faede-s-birthday-sweet-tina-my)

“This is the day of the Cold Peace.” Tiberius said as they added the mercury painstakingly to their concoction.

Malcolm hadn’t known, at least not in the top of his mind. It was one of those things that boiled below, in the place where things went when you forgot about them, whether by accident or on purpose. It explained Ty’s long face, his subdued personality since he had slunk through Malcolm’s door.

“Ten years, today.” Ty continued.

Ten years the Blackthorn children had been alone. Half of Tiberius’s life now, parentless, sister exiled, brother lost. Ten years Malcolm had watched them, until he knew enough that he couldn’t touch them, couldn’t hurt them. Ten years Annabel had been left to rest, because blood for blood was only fair when the sacrifice was guilty.

Tiberius’s hands were shaking, and it did not make Malcolm smile like his little automatic motions usually did.

“Your family has been through a lot.” Malcolm told him. “No one can deny that.”

Ty was staring determinedly at the stainless steel frying pan of abandoned potion. “When I was little,” he said, “after the Dark War, I thought it was just temporary. I thought things could go back to normal, eventually. But it’s been so long. Helen and Mark….”

It had been one of the things that had struck Malcolm first, how much the Blackthorn children loved their half Downworlder siblings. Their ancestors would not have.

“There’s always some hope.” Malcolm said, and he believed it. If you couldn’t believe in happy endings, what could you believe in? But it clearly didn’t convince Tiberius.

Malcolm clapped his hands. “Right. We need to get this finished or it’ll spoil, then, some hot chocolate?”

He didn’t know how to deal with distress, not his own and certainly not someone else. Malcolm’s solution had always been to keep moving, to try to live after Annabel and then to save her and then to keep himself busy when he realized he’d have to wait for her longer. It didn’t always work for Ty, sometimes her needed stillness, but Malcolm helped it would work now.

It did, thankfully, but that was only a stay of judgement. The potion for Arthur was finished- Ty wanted to learn how to make it himself in case of an emergency since Julian still couldn’t take over the Institute, not until Octavian was old enough, and for some reason Malcolm had agreed because it was so easy to spoil the Blackthorns- and Malcolm conjured up cups of hot chocolate and added marshmallows because Ty was an impertinent twenty year old child who didn’t understand the charms of simple Starbucks. .

Tiberius perched on the couch, blowing on his cocoa fastidiously, even though Malcolm was pretty sure it was already cool. When he finally looked up his eyes were wet.

“Tiberius?”

Ty wasn’t looking at him, that wasn’t really his way, but Malcolm could still see. “Tiberius.” he repeated.

“Yeah?”

“Tiberius, I know this is hard for you.” Malcolm pressed his teeth together for a moment and let the pressure relieve some of his conflicted feelings. “And it hurts, to be separated from those you love. Love is our lifeblood, even family love. It’s as essential for humans as food is for life, or caffeine for a college student. The Clave did a great wrong by your family, as they have done to many others before. But I don’t know how to help you. I can take you home…”

“I came here to get away from home!” Tiberius said in an outburst, like a confession of love. “Everyone is so hurt, and angry. Dru’s been crying all day and Jules locked himself away to write his useless letters, and I made Liv sad. I was just making things worse. So I came here.”

I am not the one to comfort you, Blackthorn, Malcolm wanted to say. “I’m afraid I’ve been told I’m rather tactless.” he admitted instead. “I always try to give allergic people kittens, or burn the soothing tea.”

“You make me feel better.” Ty mumbled into his cup. “You’re very light.” Ty kept his pale grey eyes, beautiful and untouched by Annabel’s memory, on his room temperature cocoa. He didn’t say anything else.

Malcolm didn’t like silences but he knew Tiberius did, so he let the quiet reign for a while. But eventually he couldn’t stand it any longer, whether the dead air or the clear grief on Ty’s face, he didn’t know.

“I know you don’t like talking. You don’t have the mind for it. Some people are talkers and some aren’t, like movies back in the twenties. But if you want to talk, I’m all ears.” Malcolm paused. “Two of them, really, but they’re very acute.”

He’d done a lot of listening over the years. At first it had been grudging, all part of the master plan. But it had been hard not to get invested and after he had finally made his choice, to stay his hand and let Annabel rest until he could find someone who deserved to die for her, he’d had to help. If the Blackthorns would live, they would live well and safe. He had listened to Julian and Emma while they were dealing with their parabatai troubles, had let Emma sleep on his couch and counselled them until Cristina Rosales swept in like a ray of sunshine and saved them by seducing Emma. 

(He did owe her some favour, after her parents.)

He had listened to Livia about her potential parabatai troubles, had convinced Tiberius not to approach the Scholomance, had patted Drusilla’s back during her first breakup, and had kept a straight and sympathetic face through all of it.

“I hate them so much.” Tiberius whispered, and it was easy to be sympathetic to that. “I used to think it would all be over, eventually. But Mark is still trapped and they won’t let Helen back. And I don’t know what to do. Livvy and I skipped our eighteen year old travels so we could stay and help Jules, but now Dru is getting ready to leave and Emma and Cristina are getting married. Tavvy’s the only baby anymore and he doesn’t need all of us. We’re moving on without them, because we don’t have any choice and I…” Tiberius struggled for the the words and lost.

“Don’t want to?” Malcolm suggested. “Don’t like it? Want to burn everything in your path to stop it?”

“I don’t know how.” Ty said.

Malcolm knew the sensation of profound confusion after a loss. He also felt strongly that trying to move on was doomed to failure. You could move, yes, but some tragedies stuck to your back like limpets or brain suckers, or more grossly, fleas. He fidgeted with his cuffs and realized he’d put his shirt on inside out. Somehow trying to change now didn’t seem like a good idea.

“I want to apply to the Scholomance.” Ty said, his head snapping up. His face was twisted and he was making an effort to watch Malcolm’s face, to gauge his reaction even though it didn’t come easily to him. “I know you told me when I was younger that the Clave wouldn’t like the way I did things.” Tiberius continued when Malcolm didn’t twitch. “But I’m older now. I can fake it. Besides, we might need a Centurion to keep the Institute. Uncle Arthur is so sick, and Julian can’t go study there.” There was a note of pleading in his voice, like he wanted Malcolm’s green light on the project.

“You should do what you want.” Malcolm told him with care. “No one can stop you. You Blackthorns are terribly stubborn. Like mules, but prettier and less likely to bite. Except Octavian, I think he’s still a bit gnashy. But the Clave, the Nephilim.” Malcolm faltered. “I’ve been alive a very long time, Tiberius. I’ve seen what the Clave does to those who break their rules simply by existing, by living, by falling in love. I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt.”

It was true, strangely enough. It had been years since Malcolm had dreamt of Blackthorn blood except in the most abstract sense. And he liked Tiberius. The twins had always gravitated to him and though Livia was the true romantic he admired Ty’s intelligence. There was something charming about him and he was always ready to listen even if he and Malcolm didn’t understand each other always. He’d grown into a fine young man, clever and sweet and only occasionally rude, and admirably devoted to his brothers and sisters.

Besides, Tiberius wasn’t much for lies. It was a change of pace for Malcolm.

Ty looked at him, not his eyes, but his mouth. It was still more than he usually did, and Malcolm felt oddly touched he was making the effort. “Thanks.” he said, slowly and carefully. “You always give good advice.”

“That’s not something I hear often.” Malcolm mused.

“You’ve always been here for us.” Ty continued, and that Malcolm couldn’t reply to. “Do you really think I should do what I want to?”

“Passion inspires us the most.” Malcolm said. “We are nothing except for love.”

Ty kissed him.

Malcolm scrambled away backwards, feeling like a spider, all legs, as he crabcrawled the length of the sofa and eventually fell off the end. Ty’s face appeared over him, worried and guilty.

“What was that?” Malcolm asked, pressing his arm to his mouth, like he could shield it against further kisses.

“A mistake.” Ty apologized. His mouth, the mouth that had just kissed Malcolm, was moving with panic. His hands fluttered like moths. “I’m sorry. You told me to do what I wanted to do.”

“I sort of meant in terms of career choices.” Malcolm whispered, still shell shocked. He felt himself grabbing at the floor for stability, at his own sleeve for comfort. His shirt was definitely inside out.

Tiberius and Livia had both kept a candle for him when they were younger. It was one of those terribly silly and ironic things that Malcolm tried not to think about in case he started weeping uncontrollably. But he hadn’t thought it had continued. For seven years Tiberius had been nothing more that an acquaintance and occasional student.

“Sorry.” Ty apologized again. “Sorry.”

Malcolm levered himself to his feet. He was still speechless. Yes, he liked Tiberius, but he didn’t…. he was so young….. Malcolm had never really been drawn someone of his own sex before.

It hadn’t been a half bad kiss.

Nothing like the ones with Annabel, hurried and sweet and tasting of childhood. Annabel’s kisses were half a memory. Tiberius had been so solid.

In a time of crisis Malcolm always came down on the side of love. So, he liked Tiberius. That didn’t change the past, Annabel’s corpse in its tomb, all those betrayals. By all right s one of the Blackthorns should have been dead and Annabel should have been beside him. Only sentiment and love again had stayed his hand.

Ty seemed to be breaking down, head tucked down, hands tugging at the nape of his neck, shivers rolling through him. Malcolm’s hand came automatically to the small of Ty’s back and pressed. 

 

“It’s alright. Not your fault. A chance taken for love is never lost.” his voice sounded hollow but Ty’s breathing even out.

“Sorry.” Tiberius said. “I just really liked you, and I must have heard something wrong.”

“Not a problem.” Malcolm said, even though it was a problem, it was very much a problem. Annabel’s eyes were on him.

“And I thought I might never get another chance.” Ty said. “Whenever you watch movies you always shout when the people say something wrong, or don’t kiss when they should. I didn’t want to do it wrong. You say love only gets one chance.”

That was something Malcolm had said before when sandwiched between Livia and Drusilla, seeing fairytales unfold and feeling Blackthorn heartbeats next to him.

Malcolm had another chance waiting, didn’t he?

They’d gotten into an argument once, Annabel and he, over some romance novel she was reading. The heroine had her heart broken by her first love, but then married again, a sensible army colonel. Malcolm had thought it was sad, that she would settle for second best. Annabel had insisted that she found happiness again, that love could grace a person more than once. It had eventually devolved into giggling kisses, and they’d never reached an agreement.

It was the day of the Cold Peace, the anniversary of the Blackthorns breaking in a way that Malcolm hadn’t been able to ever take joy in. The Clave was ever cruel.

He thought of Annabel.

Then he kissed Ty soundly and put the thought of her out of his mind.

 

 

“I’ll teach you.” Malcolm offered, when they were both sitting on the couch, far enough apart that nothing could happen again. Tiberius was blushing, and it made his colour look more dramatic, grey and black set against red.

“What?”

“I could teach you. The magic you want to learn from the Scholomance, you’d learn them much better from me. The Clave wouldn’t like it, but I don’t think you care. And it would mean you could stay at home.”

Ty bit his lip. His eyes were shadowed, but Malcolm could guess at the hesitance there. “That wouldn’t solve the problem of the Institute.”

“Your brother can figure that out.” Malcolm pointed out. “He’d have to anyways.”

“I’d like that.” Tiberius admitted. “And Livvy wouldn’t be mad at me.”

The kisses went unspoken of, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Malcolm’s heart felt heavy, but he pushed it away. His vengeance could wait a little while, at least.

A Blackthorn who deserved to be hated was surprisingly hard to find.


End file.
